Chapter : 567

The training ground, which had already been a scene of elemental chaos, was plunged into a new, even more profound, cataclysm. A column of pure, brilliant, silver-and-azure light erupted from where Lloyd and Fang Fairy stood, shooting towards the sky, so bright, so intense, that it seemed to turn the afternoon sun into a pale, insignificant bauble. The very air shrieked, ionized, the scent of ozone now so thick, so potent, that it was a physical, almost suffocating, presence. The ground beneath them cracked, groaned, the stone itself unable to withstand the sheer, raw, metaphysical pressure of a mortal and a god becoming one.

From the edge of the training circle, Ken Park, the stoic, immovable sentinel, took an involuntary step back. His own Transcended power, the fiery, earthy soul of Redborn, flared to life within him, a desperate, instinctive defense against the overwhelming wave of raw, untamed storm energy that was washing over him. His face, for the first time since Lloyd had known him, was no longer a mask of impassive calm. It was a mask of pure, unadulterated, professional awe. He was witnessing a true, full-body merge. A perfect fusion.

Arch Duke Roy Ferrum stared into the heart of the blinding, incandescent column of light, his own formidable defenses, the fortress of dark steel chains, flaring to life around him, bracing against the concussive waves of spiritual pressure. His face was a mask of stunned, almost horrified, disbelief. He had known his son was powerful. He had not known this. He had not known his son possessed the will, the control, the sheer, insane audacity, to attempt a full merge with a Transcended spirit. It was a feat of power and courage that was so far beyond the bounds of what he had thought possible that it shattered his entire understanding of his own son.

The light pulsed once, a silent, world-shaking heartbeat. And then, as quickly as it had erupted, it began to recede, to contract, to fold in on itself, drawing back into the single figure that now stood at its heart.

The transformation was complete. The storm had found its vessel.

Lloyd stood in the center of the training ground, his head bowed, his form wreathed in a swirling, gentle cloak of what looked like captured moonlight and contained lightning. The roaring power had been tamed, brought under the control of a single, unified will. Slowly, he lifted his head.

And Roy and Ken both gasped.

The boy was gone. The handsome, dark-haired youth who had entered the circle was no longer there. The being that stood before them was something… else. Something beautiful. Something alien. Something that was a perfect, breathtaking, and terrifying fusion of man and storm.

His black hair, which had been a simple, dark curtain, was now streaked with thick, shimmering veins of pure, incandescent silver, as if the lightning itself had been woven into his very being. It flowed around his shoulders, stirred by an unfelt wind, each strand crackling with a faint, almost invisible, static charge.

His eyes, which had been the familiar, dark, intelligent eyes of a Ferrum, were gone. In their place were two pools of pure, molten gold, the same ancient, wise, and predatory eyes of his spirit partner. They burned with a new, terrifying intensity, a divine fire that saw not just the physical world, but the very flows of energy, of life, that underpinned it.

And sprouting from his head, from within the chaotic, beautiful mess of his black-and-silver hair, were two long, slender, ethereal ears. They were not the ears of a man, but of a wolf, sculpted from what looked like semi-translucent moonlight, their edges flickering with a faint, azure aura. They twitched, they swiveled, sampling the air, granting him a new, almost supernatural, sense of spatial awareness.

His simple training tunic and trousers had been transformed, overlaid with a swirling, ethereal cloak of pure energy, a vortex of pale moonlight and contained, azure lightning that writhed and flowed around him like a living thing. He was no longer just a man. He was a storm-forged prince, a demigod of thunder and moonlight, a being of two souls, two powers, fused into a single, terrifyingly potent, whole.

He looked at his father, his new, molten-gold eyes holding a calm, quiet, and absolutely, comprehensively, dangerous confidence. He raised a hand, and from the empty air, his own practice sword, the simple, steel blade he had not even bothered to draw, flew into his grip.

He smiled. And it was a smile that was both his and not his. It held the faint, wry amusement of Lloyd Ferrum, but it was overlaid with the ancient, predatory grace of Fang Fairy.

Chapter : 568

“Now, Father,” the new being said, his voice a strange, beautiful, and deeply unsettling, resonance of Lloyd’s own baritone and the melodic, thunderous hum of his spirit. “The lesson, I believe, was about to truly begin.”

He fell into a combat stance, the simple practice sword held loosely, confidently, in his hand. But the air around the blade began to crackle, to hum, as a thin, brilliant sheath of pure, azure lightning, an extension of his own new, merged aura, engulfed the steel.

The final gambit had been played. The duel was no longer between a father and a son, between a master and an apprentice. It was now a duel between a mountain and a storm. And the storm had just, finally, and terrifyingly, been unleashed.

The being that stood in the center of the ruined training ground was a paradox of breathtaking, terrifying beauty. The fusion of Lloyd and Fang Fairy was not a simple overlay of power; it was a true, seamless synthesis, a new entity forged in the crucible of their shared will and the raw, untamed energy of Transcendence. The physical changes were the most immediately jarring, a visual testament to the profound, metaphysical transformation that had occurred.

His hair, once a simple, unremarkable black, was now a chaotic, beautiful storm of shadow and light. Thick, almost solid, veins of shimmering, incandescent silver, the color of moonlight on a winter’s night, were woven through the dark strands, each one seeming to crackle with a faint, contained static energy. It was longer now, flowing down past his shoulders, moving with a life of its own, stirred by the quiet, powerful aura that now radiated from him.

The ethereal, wolf-like ears, sculpted from what looked like solidified moonlight and edged with a faint, azure glow, were not just a cosmetic change. They twitched, they swiveled, constantly sampling the air, granting him a new, profound, and deeply unsettling, 360-degree awareness of his surroundings. He could hear the faint, frantic heartbeat of a field mouse hiding in the cracks of the far wall. He could hear the whisper of Ken Park’s breath from fifty paces away. It was a sensory input so rich, so detailed, that it was almost overwhelming.

And his eyes… his eyes were now pools of pure, molten gold, the same ancient, predatory, and deeply intelligent eyes of Fang Fairy. They burned with a new, divine fire, a light that seemed to see not just the physical world, but the very energy that flowed through it. When he looked at his father, he no longer saw just a man in training leathers; he saw a towering, immense fortress of contained, earthy Void Power, a mountain of dormant strength.

His entire body was wreathed in a swirling, ethereal cloak of pale, silvery-white and deep, azure-blue energy. It was not the violent, crackling inferno of Fang Fairy’s full Lightning Cloak, but something more refined, more controlled. It was a quiet, contained storm, a vortex of moonlight and thunder that writhed and flowed around him, a constant, silent promise of the immense power that now lay at his command. He was a prince of the storm, a creature of twilight and lightning, a being of two worlds, two souls, fused into a single, beautiful, and utterly, comprehensively, dangerous whole.

He felt… incredible. The power coursing through him was a heady, intoxicating river. His own senses, his own consciousness, were magnified a hundredfold. He could feel the pulse of the earth beneath his feet, the flow of the wind against his skin, the very thrum of life in the air around him. He felt faster, stronger, his thoughts sharper, clearer, than ever before. It was as if he had been living his entire life seeing the world through a frosted glass window, and that window had just been shattered, revealing a universe of vibrant, brilliant, and almost overwhelming, detail.

He looked at the simple steel practice sword in his hand. It felt different now, not just a lump of inert metal, but an extension of his own will. He focused, drawing upon the new, unified reservoir of power within him, and a thin, brilliant sheath of pure, azure lightning, a miniature version of his new storm-cloak, engulfed the blade. It hummed, it crackled, the air around it smelling sharply of ozone. The simple, blunt training sword had just become a weapon of elemental fury.

But then, as he held the lightning-wreathed blade, another, deeper, and far darker, power stirred within him. A phantom limb. A ghost of an energy signature that did not belong to him, not to Fang Fairy, not to the storm. It was the echo of Iffrit.